


Decline and Fall

by Ninguen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Chiss Politics, F/M, Female Friendship, Imperial Officers, Imperial law, Imperial politics, Military Philosophy, Multi, Political Philosophy, Space prosecutors, War politics, adulthood is hard, authoritarianism, dealing with exile
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninguen/pseuds/Ninguen
Summary: "One must never allow onself to become complete." Grand Admiral of the Galactic Empire Mitth'raw'nuruodo.The balancing acts that we make while growing up are always difficult, all the more when we are forced to make them during a civil war, exile, or under the all-seeing eye of an authoritarian government.





	Decline and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so I apologise in advance for all the gramatical errors that I am positive this fic has. If you spot any, please do feel free to tell me! 
> 
> The fic relies mostly on the 2017 and 2018 Thrawn novels, but as I move along I might borrow things from the Expanded Universe here and there.
> 
> There will be quite a bit of world-building on the first chapters, but please bear with me. I promise is going somewhere!

**Decline and Fall**

_Overture_

Fools on Parade

 

In the days of the Old Republic, they would have captured the public imagination. How couldn’t they? In their white clothes, they stood out amongst the coloured Coruscanti crowd, engaged in a quiet conversation of subtle moves and meaningful silences that could have been carved out of marble by a skilled artist of the Royal Imperial Academy of the Arts. The blue of his skin, the floral ornament that covered completely the long white globe on her left arm, the subtle red of her lips, and his equally crimson eyes, were the only organic notes in the otherwise ethereal scene. Yet nowadays, what would have been displayed, and praised, across the HoloNet mere decades ago as the epitome of the civic virtue of that modern Galactic State, was a few centimetres short of a degenerate transgression. A further inclination of his head to better hear what she was saying or a simple touch of his arm on her part, so he could make space for somebody moving through the crowd, and they would have crossed the thin line between professional cordiality and a light intimacy frowned upon by a society too enamoured with itself to live up to its humanity.  He was too alien, she was too much of an outsider. None of them fulfilled the requirements to be considered one of the “us,” but their apparent easiness with each other could surely threaten the delicate sense of self of the political and military elites of the Imperial Capital. Maybe that’s why they were both being so careful to stay in character. Such hypocrites, such actors; both playing to their own imaginations and to the expectations of others, perhaps even to the expectations of each other: the newly promoted Grand Admiral and an upstart prosecutor of a Mid Rim planet that most people in the room could not even place in a sectorial map.

 

They had not been that perfectly symbolic when they had first met more than a decade ago, Cardea thought. With his young aide Eli Vanto always at his side, Capitan Thrawn had been a distant presence even at the same dinner table. Detached and observant, he gave the impression of always talking through a protective glass. What he did could hardly be classified as having a conversation and not everybody enjoyed being studied and dissected in one-sided silence. _Not when I am alive and certainly not in my presence_ , Cardea frowned, letting those hardened memories resurface protectively. If the Capitan ever noticed how uncomfortable his behaviour had made some people feel, he had never acknowledged it and made even less of an effort to change it. He had known very well how to play his otherness to his own advantage. Cardea was sure about that; she had seen Nonna done the exactly same thing many times before, but for entirely different reasons.

 

Back then, Nonna had also been a quiet and observant presence, but hardly distant. Merely sickly worried about transgressing the unwritten rules of the high-classes that she had no way of knowing beforehand. Daughter and granddaughter of factory workers and Outer Rim farmers, her musical talent had caught the interest of one of those self-branded patrons of the arts in their home planet. She had joined the National Academy of Music and Visual Arts quite young, and once into the system had she proved them that more than talent, she had the skills to polish it. From the National Academy she had obtained a scholarship to attend the University of Theed at Naboo, where to her grandparent’s dismay Nonna had specialised in pre-Galactic History. Law had come later, and it taken the combined efforts of Cardea and Nonna’s own brothers to convince her that civil service was the best way of channelling her anxieties. _You will make this world less shitty_ , Cardea remembered thinking even before that all-out campaign, _and I will make sure you can._

 

“It is almost like one of those old-fashion promotional adds of the days of the Republic, isn’t it?” A somehow familiar voice said to the right of Cardea. “The glamour of the capital.”

 

“Yeah, of the fantasy-pandering type.” Cardea conceded absentmindedly, with her eyes still fixed on the pair. Nonna was laughing. Why was she laughing? Was she laughing at one of her own jokes or had he said something funny? Could he even say something funny? Was she just being polite? Being polite was very much like Nonna. She was probably being polite.

 

Colonel Yularen was laughing softly himself when Cardea finally took her eyes away from her friend and the Capitan to focus on him. There was little change there, little to perfect in the decade that had passed since they had last seen each other. Yularen had already been a seasoned soldier all those years ago and knew how to play the role professionally. Although, for being the head of Naval Intelligence, Cardea had never been quite sure of whether he was playing a role. That was probably why he oversaw NIA and, according to rumorology, still cut the cake at the ISB.

 

“I have never seen a tourist add that doesn’t do that.” Yularen pointed. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Prosecutor Park. Congratulations on your promotion. Or was it a transfer? I am never quite sure with you folks at the Judicial Department.”

 

“If only we had invested half the time in organising the Imperial Justice System as we did on military protocol.” Cardea smiled. Nonna would had been be proud if she had heard that, this time it almost sounded like the joke it wasn’t. Or maybe it didn’t, it occur to her belatedly. After all, Yularen was a spymaster, wasn’t he? And those folks at NIA and the ISB weren’t known for their sense of humour. “It was both, really. Most people back at Quyosh will take a transfer to Coruscant as a promotion. But thank you very much. We were quite pleased.” She added quickly, trying not to give Yularen too much time to think about what she had said and the tune that she had used. If she was getting bitter with age, as Nonna often liked to joke, at this rate she would not be able to hold a proper conversation by the age of 40. Not very a very helpful trait in a prosecutor.

 

“I am sure it was intended as such.” He asserted confidently, still carrying a warm expression that felt disturbingly normal for a high-ranking military official that dealt in counter-terrorism on a daily basis. Perhaps even hourly. “Is this your first time at Coruscant?” he asked.

 

“Ah, no, not at all.” Cardea answered. She had to force herself to pay attention to Yularen. From the corner of her eye she could see that the Capitan had reached out for two more glasses of emerald wine and was extending one to Nonna. _Is he trying to get her drunk?_ Maybe. Definitely. He was after something, for sure. It was just who the Capitan was. _He has not had an honest conversation without ulterior motives in his life_ , Cardea thought. “My mother is from Coruscant and I still have family here, so we used to come quite often when we were at Uni. I mean, as often as we could.”

 

“Coruscant can be a daunting. And dangerous.” Yularen said sympathetically. “I spent a great deal of my youth here and I still get lost more often that I would care to admit. Luckily, it is safer than it was fifteen years ago.”  

 

The Capitan had moved closer to Nonna, apparently to examine the ornamented glove that she was wearing on her left arm. She has holding it up for him. Cardea frowned. There was no need for him to be _that_ close. It was a glove; an extremely delicate and hand-waved one, but still a glove. _Move back_. She ordered him silently. He moved forward.

 

“-attended?”

 

“Sorry, what was that?” Cardea asked, suddenly caching up with the fact that she was supposed to be engaged in a conversation of her own “Is just a little bit too loud here, isn’t it?” She improvised.

 

That sounded terribly false even to her own ears. Yularen ought to have noticed it too. _Fantastic. Burn bridges with the man in charge of NIA and one of the big wigs at the ISB._ She scolded herself _. The folks at the office are going to love that_. _I mean, what kind of prosecutor needs a source of well-placed information at the highest levels of government?_

 

But if Yularen noticed where her mind had been, and quite the spymaster he would be if he hadn’t, he said nothing. He just kept his smile and asked again.

 

“I just wondered at what University did you attend.”

 

“Oh, Theed Uni at Naboo.” She replied quickly, a little too eager to make up for her earlier distraction.

 

“Theed? That is quite far away from Orbona.”

 

“Yes, it is.” she said. It had rather been the point. “I had a cousin studying there at the time, so if felt natural and easier to move with him than to relocate by myself to the Core.” She explained. She left out the fact that it had been mostly because of Nonna’s scholarship. Theed was big on the Arts department, so after much convincing on her part, Nonna had finally relinquished and applied with the recommendations of their teachers at the National Academy. She had followed her without a second thought, not even bothering to consider anywhere else. Her mother still resented the fact that she had not gone to Bar’leth with her older sister like every other member of the family, except weird distant cousin Manú.

 

 “It must have been quite an – interesting time to be at Theed, I imagine.” Yularen noted with studied politeness.

 

It was not the first time in Cardea’s life that somebody had tried to make that comment sound light-hearted. To Yularen’s credit, he had been one the least obvious when proving for information through that route. Theed had been at the centre of high-stakes political conflicts in the years running up to the Clone Wars, even though the planet itself had remained loyal to the Republic throughout wartime. Nonna and her had arrived at the Nubian capital at the end of the war, just one year prior to the re-organisation of the Republic into the Galactic Empire. The extension of Naboo’s loyalty to the new government had not been as rocky as in other places, but neither as effortless as some had anticipated. Particularly at its University Campuses. Even now, Theed Uni was viewed by the public as one of the most active centres of intellectual dissent within the Empire, only surpassed by the University of Aldera at Alderaan. Yet, for what Cardea had gathered from colleagues and friends, most Universities across the Empire were also critic towards its most _intrusive_ policies. Coruscant Uni and the Imperial Academies aside, Theed was more the rule than the exception. She suspected that Theed’s fame and influence had been blown out of proportion simply because of the salacious detail that the Emperor himself had attended that University. In fact, she did not remember the place as extremely political, all things considered. Yes, there had been heated discussions about the on-going war, and what was happening at the Senate, but most of them had been in the early hours of the morning at a pub or at somebody’s house. Generally, at one of Nonna’s group of friends from the History or the Politics departments. It sounded horrible, but unless war was quite literally at your doorstep or you were personally affected by it, Cardea had found that most people were just happy to continue living their lives as normally as they could. People loved to debate politics with their friends, might even go to some protests, but that was about it. Most would never do anything that could truly affect their lives. At her own department, Music, the main fight had been over egos and about how much one could suck it up to that year’s composer in residence. Which, in a way, was also about egos.

 

Law school had been slightly different. Building up on what they had literally called The Declaration of the New Order, the Empire had wasted no time in re-organising Criminal Justice. The New Imperial Code was passed less than a year after the Declaration and the Imperial Charter. If the later had set up the most fundamental principles of the New Galactic Order, the former had turned public and private life upside down with almost chirurgic precision. Such a sweeping change had caught Nonna and Cardea in the middle of their law studies, a fact which had made of their generation of prosecutors one of the very few officially trained in both late Republican law and Imperial law. That had proved to be as much of an advantage as a burden, but only if one knew had to play it.

 

The New Imperial Code, or NIC as was known in the profession, had changed everything for everybody while seemingly affecting only the new unpopular: non-humans. During the Clone Wars some had come to see them as naturally treacherous and subversive simply because many had filled the separatists ranks; NIC gave legal status to that feeling. The new set of laws stripped non-humans from most of their sentient rights, including the right to work for the government and hence of the possibility of having any saying in how ought to be run in practice. Only a few exceptions were allowed, and most of them were collaborative Senators or local Governors. Moreover, while inter-species sex was still permitted, NIC had outlawed inter-species reproduction. With the legal burden effectively put on those who carried the progeny, females in most species, many across the Empire were forced to terminate their pregnancies or were imprisoned. Both things in many cases. Mixed-species individuals suddenly found themselves in a legal limbo, not recognised by the state in any capacity. As far as the Empire was concerned, the should not and did not exist. Those who owned any type of property, became destitute in the eyes of the law.

 

NIC had also been successful in blurring the lines between military justice and civilian courts without the need to declare martial law. For a crime such as Unlawful Gathering, any citizen of the Empire could be subject to trial in a military court. An Imperial official only had to claim that they had witnessed or hear about a gathering of more than three persons that had purportedly met with the aim to break Imperial law to bring them to justice. On top of that, if a prosecutor argued that they had been plotting against the Emperor himself or against Imperial Institutions, their Unlawful Gathering would automatically amount to High Crimes against the State. Once you were accused of that, there was little else to be done. Under NIC it was up to the defendants to demonstrate their innocence, not to the prosecutors to probe their guilt. For the New Order, if you were an innocent citizen, you should be able to probe it. And if you were, you had nothing to fear because none of this was about you.

 

More than any anti non-human laws and regulations, it had been the changes in legal proceedings what had finally brought people to the streets of Theed; the ones that they felt could affect them directly. Yet even that had only brought some people; not that many, and certainly not enough to pose a serious threat to NIC. It was hardly surprising, as Nonna used to say. After years of conflict, the average citizen had simply become too used to live under the restrictions of martial law. Many had given away their individual rights for the cause of victory and were now happy to trade something they had not use for a while, and even to add some extra things, for was cleverly packed across the HoloNet and in every other media available as lawful order. The return from chaos, the completion of victory, was worth it, they told themselves. Now they could begin to live again. How many in her old department had rushed to compose operas and symphonies praising the newly-minted Galactic Empire, anxious to leave their own mark in history by creating the soundtrack for the new times?

 

Nonna had joined some of those early protests, to Cardea’s horror. Not that she had not agreed with the sentiment, but if she had gotten arrested and imprisoned that would have been the end. There was nothing else that she could have done to change what she so adamantly disagreed with. She would have rotten in an undisclosed penal colony for the rest of her days, probably not that many. She would have accomplished nothing. Those had been the arguments that Cardea and Nonna’s bothers had used to convince her to join law school in the first place. The Empire was portraying itself against the chaos and paralysis of the Old Republic as an Empire of the Law, and thus law could be used against it. Laws were always open to interpretation, you only had to find the time and place to do it. There were already many fighting the Empire outright, like Bail Organa’s cherished rag-tag band of players to the gallery; What would one more of them accomplish? Specially when so few prosecutors and civil servants were willing to fight back from within. That type of fight was also necessary, no matter how many times Nonna’s friends called them sell-outs.

 

 “I have never heard of a time at university that wasn’t interesting.” Cardea said, echoing Yularen’s earlier comment.

 

“Yes.” Yularen answered bitterly. “My kids could tell you all about that.”

 

Cardea laugh sincerely for the first time that night. She could tell him a lot stories herself, but then it was probably for the better if she could keep his respect a little longer. It might come handy.

 

She thought that Yularen was about to ask her yet another question when he suddenly cut himself. “Ah, I think we are being summoned.” He said, gesturing to the crowd. Nonna was waving at them, with the Capitan still by her side and _still too close._

 

“You should try to make the most of the Capital while you are here, Prosecutor Park.” Yularen continued, as they began to move towards Nonna and the Capitan. “There are many unique opportunities.”

 

At his comment, it finally registered with Cardea that Yularen might not had simply reached out to her to said hello after so many years just for all times sake. That small-talk conversation had been going somewhere and she regretted now not having paid enough attention to figure out where.

 

“In fact” the Colonel continued “at Imperial Navy we are trying to put together a new reach out initiative, independent from COMPNOR. Grand Admiral Thrawn has suggested that we cannot afford to be too rigid in our ways, that we need to incorporate backgrounds other than those of the Imperial Academies. Too many people thinking the same way might become a hindrance against the subversives. They are inventive if nothing else. We could do with some prosecutors speaking at the event, talking about the importance of collaboration between the Navy and local authorities across the Galaxy.”

 

Ah, there it was. The true motive behind the small-talk, and probably behind Yularen’s odd presence at a networking event for sectorial prosecutors. _So he wants to use our image as independent prosecutors to clean up the stains of his new Grand Admiral’s in a propaganda event_.

 

As an extremely rare alien in an institution as sensitive as the military, the Empire had not been all that keen about publicising the Captain’s career. Unless you frequented military circles or had direct contact with the Capitan, you would not have heard of him that much. Or at least that was the theory, because as an _alien_ in a human dominated Navy, his stellar rise to Grand Admiral had made him many enemies that were keen on leaking the details of his failures and court-martials. COMPNOR and the Ubiqtorate usually managed to stop the leaks before they reached the social media and embarrassed the military, but if you were an official you would still have heard of them. They definitely did. Like his recent disaster at Batonn, heavy in civilian casualties. _Even when he fails, the does it upwards. Still, over my dead body you will use us to prop him._

 

“It would be also good for you to make some connections at the Navy.”

 

What had been good for them was not having seen the Capitan for over a decade. In fact, it was what had allowed them to cultivate their reputation as independent prosecutors. They had to, after he the clusterfuck he had left them with to contend. Because that was who the Captain at his core: a military official all too happy to show up at places and to wreck them with the excuse of an investigation to then fuck off to his next assignment without ever looking back, knowing all too well that he will have people like Yularen back at Coruscant to save his ass if there were any problems. _Others have to save themselves; just ask Nonna._

 

“Think about it, Prosecutor Cata. And let me know if you are interested.” Yularen said, before they reached the pair.

 

 _Interesting_. Cardea thought. _He clearly wants to finish the conversation before we reach Nonna and the Capitan._ Which meant that he had intended the offer for her and not for her and Nonna. _Why?_ He must have known that she was going to tell her friend as soon as they left them alone. And the offer still didn’t explain why the Capitan was also there anyway. Even if Yularen had come all the way to the event to make Cardea that offer, which a part of her found hard to believe since she has hardly the only prosecutor in the city, there was no need for a military man as high ranking as the Capitan to be there. She had expected some Senators and advocates pitching their own graces, but this was not an event for the military. Although one could argue that these days everything was an event for the military. _No, he wants something and Yularen is here as a distraction. He went straight to talk to Nonna as soon as we got separated for a moment._ That was who he was, always plotting.

 

“Prosecutor Cata. A pleasure to see you again and under happier circumstances.” Yularen said, shaking Nonna´s hand as they finally joined them. “Grand Admiral Thrawn.” He added, wih a subtle gesture of acknowledgement to his superior official.

 

“The pleasure is mine, Colonel Yularen.” Nonna replied, in that tune of her that managed to make professional talk sound like a genuine personal interaction.

 

“Cardea.” Nonna smiled, turning to her. “I trust you remember Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

 

Cardea was tempted to say no, just for the pleasure of it. He might be a darling of Yularen and _still rising_ through the military ranks like he drove a fucking speeder, but even at Coruscant somebody ought to show him that he was not the centre of the fucking galaxy. Not everybody was sucking up to him or plotting against him. In fact, most people that were not in the military did not think about him at all.

 

“Yes, of course. Although I remember him as an Ensign. You have come very far in just ten years Admiral Thrawn. Not everybody gets promoted that quickly.”

 

Cardea focused on the Capitan’s reaction, partially to avoid Nonna’s piercing stare and partially to see if after ten years he had managed to upgrade emotions to his software. There was nothing on his face which indicated that he had taken offense of the veiled insults. _Well, that is a surprising whole new range of expressions_ , she noted sarcastically to herself.

 

“ _Grand_ Admiral Thrawn has just been promoted, Cardea.” Nonna intervened. _Why you are always so adamant about saving others from their own mistakes? Sometimes they are not. Sometimes you are the one that needs to be saved._ “He is not an Admiral. And he was already a Capitan when we first met, remember? It was his aide, Commander Vanto, who was an Ensign.” 

 

 “That is quite alright, Prosecutor Cata.” The Capitan assured Nonna. “It has certainly been some time since our last encounter; it is only normal that Prosecutor Park does not remember me.” He said that with the same soft and even tune that she remembered. Cardea felt renewed anger boiling inside her; Could he even talk with any hint of an inflection like any other living being? Or without giving you the impression that you were a complete idiot? _There is a pattern to the way he speaks_ , Nonna had told her when she had first complained about his voice shortly after meeting him, _he is extremely formal. Have you noticed that he never used contractions? Maybe there are many levels of formality to his mother tongue, which would mean that he likely comes from a very hierarchical society_. _In those societies you usually use a very formulaic pattern in professional settings_. As far as Cardea was concern, the only formality that she wanted from him was to beat it without a much of a fuss and to leave them be. “And thank you Prosecutor Park. Although I believe I must congratulate you myself on your equally recent promotion.”

 

“Is more of a standard transfer, really.” Cardea said curtly, refusing to acknowledge the Capitain’s good-wishes. In front of her, Nonna’s frown deepen. “Moff Markat elevated one of our cross-sectorial cases to the Supreme Court, and since the both of us have being working on it from the beginning, he thought that we would be a good fit for the special team that they are putting together.”

 

“I am certain you will.”

 

“Is that the Onuma Case?” Yularen asked “Misappropriation of public funds and aiding the rebels, wasn’t it? Is getting quite a lot of attention.”

 

 “Our cross-sectorial research was not able establish were the funds had gone.” Nonna clarified politely.

 

That was only partially true. The accused, a civil servant working for their sectorial government, had bought himself quite a nice apartment in a very good area of Quyosh that Nonna and herself only frequented for caf once in a blue moon and only after payday. Unless he or his husband had won the lottery, they could have never afforded it with their salaries and three kids. They simply had no idea where the rest, and it was a big rest, of the money had had gone. It might had gone to the Rebels or it might had not. That was the point of them being at Coruscant. The guy had admitted having misappropriated some public funds locked for the much-needed improvements of the spaceports in hyperlane route that crossed their sector, but he insisted that he knew nothing about the rest of the money.

 

“Moff Markat presided over the trial and thought that since subversives could be involved, it would be better to elevate the case to the Supreme Court. It is the only court that can trial High Crimes, so here we are.” Nonna explained enthusiastically “We are still waiting to hear if they are going to admit it for re-trial and who would be the judge if they do. I must say that I had not anticipated this much public attention. Is a rather provincial case, after all.”

 

“I was under the impression that the Emperor presided over the Supreme Court.” The Capitan said.

 

“He does, technically.” Nonna smiled, turning to face him. The only thing that Nonna loved more than answering questions was asking them, and Cardea would bet a month’s salary that he knew that. He had known it back them, and it wasn’t as if Nonna’s curiosity had mysteriously dissipated thought the years. She wasn’t dead inside like Cardea’s older sister. “But there are just so many cases for him to preside over all of them. He usually appoints proxys, particularly in civil and criminal issues. As far as I know, he has presided only over a few cases concerning High Crimes and always related to the military.”

 

As he always did, the Capitan listened attentively. _Don’t explain anything to him, Nonna! Isn’t he some sort of genius? Unless he has gotten dumber with the years he knows very well how the judiciary works and is fishing for something!_ Cardea wanted to shout at her friend. Instead, she stared at her without blinking, hoping that her look would be more effective than her internal screaming.

 

“I see.” The Capitan finally noted, after a silence that felt too long for Cardea to consider it a polite answer to her friend’s explanation.

 

_Of course, you see! How many times have you being court-martialled just to get your sorry ass saved via the rampant nepotism of the Navy? You did not mind a lack of due process then, did you?_

 

As if sensing her angry inner monologue, the Capitan asked Nonna another question. “Interesting. Would this case require for you to be confirmed by the Senate?” 

 

“I am afraid that neither of us is that important.” Nonna replied. She was enjoying the conversation, Cardea could tell. She loved talking about the intricacies of their job and, in all honesty, not that many people were interested in judicial proceedings. Cardea could not fault her for enjoying this. “The head of the team will need to be confirmed by the Judiciary Committee of the Senate, but not the rest of us. Even in their case is more of a norm than it is a legal requirement.”

 

The Capitan continued to listen in silence. Cardea took the opportunity to take hold of the conversation before he could say something else.

 

 “Speaking about us, the poor lowly aides. Where is Vanto?” She asked, purposely looking at Yularen. Nonna’s tense stance told her that she knew exactly what she was doing and that she didn’t approve. Cardea didn’t care. Nonna was too good of a person for her own self-preservation.

 

“I am afraid that Commander Vanto is MIA.” Yularen said with a tense voice that made clear that no further explanation was going to follow.

 

The mood of the conversation turned as heavy as the absence that has prompted it. She hadn’t anticipated that kind of an answer.

 

“I am really sorry to hear that.” Nonna said. The sadness on her voice echoing Cardea’s. She had really liked Vanto. As junior prosecutors, Nonna and herself had had more contact with him than with any other member of the military team that had come to Orbona. She remembered him as a good man with a quiet confidence that made trusting him easy; also as an excellent guitar-player and drinking buddy. “He was a very capable officer and an even better person, two qualities that do not always go together.”

 

 _What an odd comment for Nonna_ , Cardea thought, still processing the news. _She goes out of her way to avoid even hinting anything that could be taken as an insult in these types of events._

 

Cardea examined her friend closely, in search for any clues of what might have prompted that ambiguous remark and to avoid thinking about poor Vanto. Nonna was completely focused on the Capitan, staring directly onto his strange red eyes as if to emphasise her words. He held back the stare, but nothing transpired from him. Nothing at all. _Not even grief, or sadness, or Yularen’s understandable uncomfortableness with the issue._ There was a conversation going on there, Cardea realised, that just like hers with Yularen, was not intended for anybody else. Until her and Nonna got out of there, that was.

 

 “Indeed.” The Capitan said. “He is sorely missed.”

 

_This is weird._

 

Nonna didn’t avert her eyes, nor did he. The moment went quickly from heavy, to rottenly uncomfortable. He was indeed fishing for something, of that Cardea had no doubt, but for what it looked like, so was Nonna.

 

_Weird but Good. Do not give him any ground, Nonna._

 

Still, not giving him any ground didn’t mean that they had to spend the rest of the night in an awkward staring contest or, worst, with him. They needed to escape soon, before they got trapped by the gravitational camp of the Capitan’s immense ego even further. Networking with fellow-prosecutors suddenly didn’t sound like the excuse to drink it had been that afternoon. Cardea looked past them to the crowd, in search for an opening. _Bingo_. “I think I just saw Hwang over here, Nonna! Didn’t you say you needed to talk to him?” She said, probably to Yularen’s relief.

 

Nonna turned to her. For a second Cardea thought that she had crossed the line of rudeness and that her friend was going to tell her off. Luckily, she didn’t. “Gentleman, I hope you excuse us. But we do have to talk with some people here.” Before either of them could said anything else, she continued with a bright smile. “Colonel Yularen, I am happy to see you again in such good spirits. I imagine that we might see each other more often now that we are at Coruscant. Especially if there is a re-trial.”

 

“I imagine that too.” Yularen said “Please, do reach out if NIA or the ISB can help with something. Prosecution at the core can be very tricky.” He added looking at Cardea.

 

“We will do.” Cardea assured him.

 

“Grand Admiral Thrawn” Nonna said, facing the Capitan once more. “It was such a pleasant surprise to meet you here after so long. Congratulations once again on your promotion and my sincere condolences for Commander Vanto’s loss.”

 

“The pleasure was mine, Prosecutor Cata.” He replied with a slight inclination of his head. His unsettling red eyes again fixed on Nonna’s. Any other person would have added a small pleasantry about seeing each other soon, as Nonna herself has just done, or about his trusted subordinate, but he said nothing else. _The best thing you had done tonight._

 

Before anybody could say anything else, Cardea locked arms her friend and began to push her away from the Capitan. _Your pleasure maybe, but I will eat a hat if it was your surprise._

 

*********

 

They threw themselves on the backseats of their rented airspeeder as if they had been walking for hours. She was quite glad that Nonna had insisted on setting the autopilot to return them to her Aunt’s place before they left for the event, because she didn’t think that she could have done it now. Setting up the autopilot or taking them back to her Aunt’s. It wouldn’t had been the first time that she got them lost in Coruscant, true, but the other times they had been younger, bolder, and with more tolerance to alcohol than they seem to have in their mid-30s. _This is sad, we didn’t even drink three glasses in over four hours._

 

 “I can’t feel my toes.” Nonna moaned in front of her, tossing her shoes to the floor. She had taken her long gloves off and laid them carefully besides her. A friend of them back at Orbona had designed and sewed Nonna’s clothes. _You will never be able to compete with them in quality or to imitate their style without looking that you are trying too hard. You should just show them what having a personality means._ Cardea had agreed wholeheartedly with Aliya: play to your advantages because they, the people at Coruscant, are never going to consider you one of them anyway; not unless you sell your soul to them. And if you did, would there ever be anything left for you? Or of you. “I think I might die.”

 

“Don’t worry, I can still email you the briefings to hell.”

 

“When did you improve reception?”

 

“When I learnt that Markat was sending us here. I don’t wanna hear you complaining again that I do not plan ahead.”

 

Nonna laughed softly and began to massage her feet.

 

“You should not have worn such high heels anyway. Nobody would have noticed if you hadn’t.” Cardea commented while taking off her belt. It turned out that wearing around one’s waist a solid-gold belt of a snake eating its own tail was as uncomfortable as her grandmother had told her it would be when she borrowed it. Still worth it, Cardea thought looking down at the small ruby eyes of the snake. What had he wanted from Nonna? Finish what he had started all those years ago? They had more influence now. There were longer two junior prosecutors on one of their first big cases. He did try to bring Nonna down, Cardea will fight right back; even if it meant mutual destruction.

 

Nonna opened her mouth as if to say something, but it was a testament to how tired she must have been that she closed it again and let herself fall back onto the seat with a sigh. She didn’t have to say anything at all. After more than two decades of friendship, Cardea knew what she had wanted to say. _Yes, I had to if I wanted them to listen to me. If you are born into their world, you might choose to ignore their rules and customs as an inconvenience, but not all of us have that luxury. You need to know their rules if you want to know how to break them, and they need to know that you know them before the let you do it._ That way of thinking was probably, surely, why Nonna was such a great prosecutor. To Cardea, that mindful attitude was a nuisance at best. But then, she had been born into that world.

 

Cardea’s paternal grandparents were originally from Anaxes. With the profits of their years as top executives at a ship-building company, they had bought a grand state in a quiet Mid Rim planet to enjoy the rest of their lives in comfortable retirement. They had sent their kids back to the Core for their studies and their Grand Tours, of course. Civilisation only went so far into the Galaxy. Her father had met her mother, a Coruscanti beauty, during those days. That was why in spite of having been born and raised at Orbona, Cardea and her sister spoke with deep core accents. When she was younger, it had embarrassed her to no end and she had been desperate to to get rid of it. She wanted to sound like Nonna and her family. Her lame attempt to do it when they were at Uni had been one of the few times that Nonna had not spared her feelings. _I don’t think there is anything wrong with our accent._ She had told her _. As I don’t think there is anything wrong with mine. But not everybody can pick and choose how they talk. Accents matter if you do not have the right one. Don’t play with them unless you are an actor._ The memory of that conversation still made Cardea feel ashamed, all those years later.

 

Accents had certainly mattered at the National Academy. Nonna and Cardea had met there at ten, although they had arrived in quite different circumstances. Her parents, grandparents, and most of her extended family were not only important donors to the National Academy, but they were also active in how the different programs were run. There was even concert venue named after her grandparents. She had been expected to attend the National Academy her whole life and was left little choice on the matter. She was supposed to obtain a degree in music there, as her sister had done in plastic arts, and to cultivate herself. That was why her family had spent the first ten years of her life pestering her with all kinds of music tutors, Cardea thought bitterly; so she could “learn” at Academy. Only not so much music or arts as how to feel better than anybody else. She had loaded every single one of her music lessons and skip as many as she could, hoping that her parents would just give up and let her be. They hadn’t. By the time she joined the Academy, she had learnt her lesson: just do whatever they want to get rid of them as soon as possible. She still skipped classes, but only as many as she could without crossing the line. That was as freer as one got, in her experience. Play the system.

 

Cardea hadn’t been bad with the piano, but not the genius her mother had hoped for either. Her teachers always complained that she was too technical, and that as an artform music also needed certain passion. She did not always take criticism well, but that one was fair enough: she was always in a hurry to finish up the piece and go up to run around. Nonna had been the exact opposite when they met. She was all feeling and barely any technique. She played by ear and intuition, and she hardly understood what she was doing or what it all meant. She hadn’t had any formal education as far as the Academy was concerned. To her parent’s horror, the school decided to pair them up during was supposed to be individual lessons.

 

Cardea had been predisposed to like anybody that her mother found “too rough” for company, so she had asked around the school about that rough girl she had to study with. A tiny girl with big glasses, thousands of freckles and curly hair, they told her. Very curly hair. She had searched and searched during their free period to no avail; by the time she gave up, she realised that their lesson had already started.

 

She had tried to sneak into the classroom, hoping that Mr. Soden was simply too focus on the other girl to scold her; he never interrupted his students while they were playing. Cardea thought that it was because he enjoyed crushing them at the end of the piece by telling them everything that they had done wrong, which was everything most times. Sadly, that was exactly what he had been doing when Cardea had cracked the door open. Yet, more than the sharp criticism coming out of their teacher, the first thing that she had noticed had been how much smaller than her the other girl was. At age ten, Nonna hadn’t looked more than seven. Then she noticed that the girl was listening attentively to Mr. Soden, which was odd. In Cardea’s experience, most students that got yelled and corrected as much as was Nonna at that time, usually began crying. At first, Cardea had thought that it was a good surviving strategy: fake attention and interest; still, she thought that hers way smarter. So by the end of the class, when Mr. Soden had finally run out of errors to correct and had them left alone, she had offered Nonna her advice. As she still did, Nonna had frowned and thought about it in silence before saying anything. Cardea was sure that she would remember Nonna’s reply until her final day. _Thank you, but I think that he was right. I was not really reading the partiture because I cannot read music very well. I want to learn._

 

 _“Is not that difficult. You can learn it from many places.”_ She had said, thinking about her years of music lessons.

 

_“It is difficult for me. I can’t learn it where I live.”_

 

It was then that Cardea that realised that her experiences were not really a measure for other’s. _I can teach you_ had come out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Nonna had smiled brightly and thanked her. They had been friends ever since.

 

 “Did you enjoy the night? I know that these high-end events are not really your cup of tea.” Cardea asked. _Did you enjoy meeting the Capitan? What did you talk about that much time? Old times or something else? What were you laughing at? **Why** were you laughing at? _ Cardea had those questions on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them. As soon as she asked them at loud, Nonna would know that she was still holding onto her hate all those years later. _Why wouldn’t I be holding onto it? He almost got you killed and did little to help when the consequences of his ego-driven actions backfired on all of us._ He had had Yularen to save him and Vanto, but their own highest real contact on the military had been him and he had fucked off to his next assignment as soon as he could.

 

“Mmm, It was not bad.” Nonna said, taking off her glasses and closing her eyes. “It was good to see Grand Admiral Thrawn and Colonel Yuralen after so many years.” The neon lights of Coruscant painted strange figures on her white woollen dress.

 

“Yularen is just as I remembered him.“ Cardea said tentatively, hopping that Nonna would naturally move the conversation onto the others.

 

“Yes.” Nonna agreed. She was either falling asleep or thinking.

 

“I was sorry to hear about Vanto.” Cardea tried again, as she picked up one of Nonna’s gloves from the seat and examined it closely. Aliya was very good at her job.

 

“Me too.” Nonna said softly. “He was such a nice man.”

 

She was probably too tired to do more than small-talk, Cardea concluded. Still…

 

“Did you buy it?”

 

Nonna opened one eye to look at her and raised an eyebrow.

 

Cardea smiled, satisfied. So that was what that odd silent conversation with the Capitan had been about!

 

“Maybe he is just gone and joined the Rebellion. I would have done that too, if my superiors insisted that I ought to shove a stick up my arse to be successful like them.” Cardea said, only half joking.

 

Nonna laughed quietly at her comment, sending even more reassuring waves through Cardea. _She would never laugh at somebody she appreciated._ “Commander Vanto always stroke me as way too detail-oriented to chase the pipe-dreams of the Rebellion. He would not join something that was not leading to somewhere very specific.” Nonna observed, frowning. “Most likely he is off to something that cannot be accomplished in broad daylight as a regular official of the Imperial Navy.”

 

Cardea let those words, and their implications, hang in the air for a few seconds.

 

“An undercover mission? I thought it was mostly Yularen’s people the ones that dealt with those kinds of things on the Navy.”

 

As prosecutors there were no strangers to undercover missions and informants, but their sphere of contact was restricted to criminal investigations. The military, on the other hand - well, NIC had made clear that the they could do whatever the fuck they wanted in one way or the other. They had experienced that first-hand ten years ago, when the Capitan and Vanto had barged onto Orbona as mediators in a local conflict that had nothing to do with the Navy when they arrived and had ended up with half the planet almost railing to the cause of the Rebellion. 

 

“NIA is the one officially in charge, yes.” Nonna said, falling back into the seat.

 

 _Officially_. Of course, when had the Capitan behaved as if the rules applied to him?

 

She was going to ask Nonna whether she thought that the Capitan was side stepping something, or trying to topple the government or what, but the caught herself before doing it. Rented car, public ears. _Behave as if the Ubiqtorate could listen to what you think,_ Nonna had warned her before leaving Quyosh _because they might._ The had probably said too much at loud already.

 

Cardea let herself sink into the seat, pleased. Good, that was good. Nonna didn´t trust the Capitan. It worried her that she had been so open to speak with him after what had happened; but then Nonna was too good of a person. Cardea was happy to watch out for the two of them, as she had done since that first day at the National Academy.

 

She closed her eyes and listened to Nonna’s even breathing. Kriff, she hoped that they didn’t wake up the next day hangover and still on the speedster.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cardea's mood: Frank Bridge's Piano Sonata H.160.


End file.
